


Taking a Step Back

by LittleLeeeLoo



Series: TravelingMerchant Oneshots [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, The Links stay separated, Touch-Starved, TravelingMerchantAU, Vio is incapable of crying currently, Vio-centric, parental Link's Father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26485897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLeeeLoo/pseuds/LittleLeeeLoo
Summary: Vio's mind is in shambles and he wants nothing more than to escape and run away from his problems. He is determined to leave behind this old life and lead a new one, a better one but what he doesn't expect is for his father to be so understanding.
Relationships: Link's Father & Vio Link
Series: TravelingMerchant Oneshots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877419
Comments: 12
Kudos: 52





	Taking a Step Back

**Author's Note:**

> If there's any glaring spelling/grammar mistakes, let me know.

After running from the castle, he was finally on his own. He’s foot still bothered him and he was starting to wonder if it wasn’t just a bruise or if it was worse than he had originally thought. Revealing his foot later made him come to the conclusion that it was worse than suspected, but he didn’t much care to take care of it. 

He deserves it, in some strange way that he definitely doesn’t want to wrap his head around. He needed to keep it as a reminder of his deeds and betrayal. He lost his fire after an hour of running, keeping to slow walk and always cautiously looking over his shoulder. 

He hadn’t paid any mind to the guards when he left the castle. 

He barely paid mind to the town. He had gone into his… well, Link’s house and had packed himself a bag, scowling at the sheer amount of stupid green tunics he seemed to be in possession of. Among the batch though, there was a pair of white shorts and shirt that he quickly shoved into the bag along with the single survival book Link had owned. 

He hated how his foot throbbed, but he pressed on, packing his things and muttering to himself to keep the intrusive and chest tightening thoughts at bay. 

He just needed to get out. He shoulders his bag, gathering up a knife and his quiver and bow and proceeds out of the house, thinking of his plan to head south. He starts down the steps of his… Link’s… house but the call from his… Link’s father halts his progress. 

“Link wait!” He hates that he responds to that name. He’s not him anymore. “Link…” His gut twists and he clenches his fists as his shoulders tense and shake.

That’s not my name.

“Where are you going? Come back inside. It’s late- Link-” His father comes up next to him and places a hand on his shoulder, making his skin crawl as he can’t help but think back to a time where the gentle hand on his shoulder didn’t hold such a heavy burden.

He grits his teeth, the whirl of emotions hitting him like an avalanche- he wishes at this moment that he was whole… maybe then the tears would cinch the burning his eyes were currently causing him. “I. Am not. Link.”  
Silence stretches between them and the hand on his shoulder gives a light squeeze. 

“You are…” His father says gently. 

He’s not. 

“Son, what happened?” 

Vio shoves the hand off his shoulder and practically stumbles down the steps to wheel around and stare up at his father. “I’m not. I’m not Link anymore. Even the sword can recognize that- why can’t you?” 

His father sighs, looking hurt at Vio’s actions but letting his hand drop to his side. “Fine, you may not be Link, but you are still my son.” 

The blond’s heart clenches at his words and his face screws up to the ugly-and-about-to-cry look and stares up at his father, frozen for words. He watches his father open up his arms for him and Vio longs to walk up to him and hug him tightly- he wants nothing more than to be held and kept together. He feels like he’s being ripped apart at the seams and the tightness in his chest intensifies so much that he has to look away. 

“Son…” It’s almost like he doesn’t know what to call him… “Breathe, son.” 

He sucks in some air and only just now realizes that he had forgotten to breathe in the first place. What was wrong with him? How could one even forget to breathe? It was a normal bodily function- how was he forgetting to do it. He lightly presses a hand to his throat, his eyes wide as he forces himself to think about breathing. Inhale for four seconds, exhale for six. How idiotic must he be to be reminded to do this…?

The creaking of steps makes his eyes warily dart back up to his father and he takes a stumbling step back. 

“Son…” 

“It’s…” he gasps out loudly, hating how his voice cracks. “Vio.” 

“Vio.” He corrects immediately trying to get closer only for Vio to take just as many steps back. 

“I’m not the person you raised.” Vio immediately buffers back. “I’m not something you should be proud of. I’m not Link- I’m not a hero- hundreds- thousands fell because of me- I’m not Link- not anymore- not after everything that’s happened…” He sucks in another deep breath and looks down at his own hands, clean, physically. “Do you have any idea... how much blood I have on my hands?” He hates how his mind plays these horrible tricks on him, making his vision flash red and he can almost feel the sticky residue as the smell of smoke and burned alive bodies sticks to the back of his throat like a passing memory. “I couldn't stop it in time... You don’t understand what I went through- how I feel- what it feels like to not be a whole person- to know that you’re not the piece of the puzzle to be proud of… I’m the… I’m the piece that would kill people for the greater good of the world…” He looks up at his father, looking positively ill with himself and trying to wipe the imaginary blood off of his hands onto his tunic. 

“Li- Vio-” His father stumbles over the right name and when Vio locks eyes with him, the overwhelming pity that he gets from the man makes him want to gag.

“I’m not Link-..... You would never be able to understand...” 

He tries to reach out for him again and the blond ducks away from him once more like a scared animal. “Vio… Let me try...” 

“No.”

“Vio please.” His father tries again. “Let me help you. War.. this war… You were too young. You shouldn’t have had to make the decisions you did. You shouldn’t have been in it. I’m sorry you had to do such things.” 

Vio shakes his head, moving further back and readjusting the bow and quiver to sit higher up on his shoulder. “My actions are inexcusable. You can’t just say that.. It’s. You can’t. You can’t accept that like it was nothing- do civilian lives mean nothing to you?” 

“Vio… War.. war requires sacrifices. I’m not saying I don’t mourn our losses, but your actions are what prevented a massacre.” 

“Hundreds- maybe thousands lost their life.” Vio spits back, wiping his hands more insistently on his tunic. “You can’t justify that.” 

He tries to ignore the placating manner in which his father is treating him. “It was a war, Vio. You shouldn’t have been in that position. These types of things… this is not the burden a child should be holding. Death and war go hand in hand. You are no fool. You have sat in on the battalion meetings. You understand warfare. You have always been loner. You have never been the best at teamwork. I am not at all surprised by your actions in joining the other side to gather intel and bring them down from within but I am disappointed that you can’t bring yourself to ask for help, even now after everything that has happened.” He takes a step closer and kneels down so Vio no longer has to strain his neck to look up at him. “War weighs heavily on everyone’s mind. It is not something people should get through alone. Vio… Please stay. Let me help you.” 

Vio’s eyes burn as he stares at his father- he remembers what it’s like to cry but he feels so painfully dried up. He reaches a hand up and wipes it over his eyes, bringing it down to look at it and stare at it so blankly. “I can’t cry.” 

His father makes a noise that Vio can’t decipher. “Vio… let's go back inside. I’ll make you tea. We can relax… and talk about your time and your… aspirations.” 

Vio snorts and scowls down at his hand before letting it drop. “I… I can't.. I have to go.” 

“You don’t. Stay here with me. We’ll get through this together.” 

“No. I… I have to go. I can’t stay here. I can’t. I don’t want to… It just… Seeing all the people… I can’t.” 

His father sighs and stands up. Vio glances up at him, but the guilt swallows him whole and he has to look away. “Please… at least eat with me. Let me check through your bags. I can make sure you're sufficiently packed. Let me do something for you. Please know that you don’t have to leave. I will keep you safe.” 

Vio shifts, wincing at the sharp pain in his foot as he proceeds to look everywhere but at his father. They stand there in a sort of stalemate for a few minutes before Vio finally gives in with a nod, moving slowly back into the house with his father shortly following. They move to the kitchen and Vio slowly unpacks his bag, which thinking about the contents of it now, makes him realize how much of an idiot he was. His father picks up his clothes, folding each one neatly and making Vio’s ears the darkest red. He hates the awful greens… He only managed to pack one of those, and the clear distaste he showed for it was enough for his father to put it to the side. There’s mostly the longer sleeved tunics, lighter and more airy, but not durable like the green one was. He seems to raise an eyebrow at the white set, but he doesn’t speak. He folds everything neatly like Blue would and admires the single book. 

Thinking about it now, he probably should have packed food… The humiliation washes over him like a tidal wave and he keeps his head ducked down, his fists tightly closed at his sides. He listens to his father pull things out of the pantry and hears a water sack being filled by their water pitcher. He can smell the heavy aroma of jerky as his father places the jar on the table to be packed. He tells Vio to stay and after a few moments things start to accumulate on the table- soap, flint, a dagger, a whetstone, rope, a tarp to make a tent, a blanket, a sewing kit, first aid kit, two more glass bottles, and a bowl. 

Vio watches as his father neatly packs his back, lining the bag with the tarp to keep everything dry, and slowly adding everything so it would fit. Vio already knows that he’s going to have a hard time putting it back together when he takes something out… but at least he’ll have it. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten so many things… He logically should have remembered what he needed to get. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how to spend the night in the forest.... So why was his mind so blank when he tried to think of what he needed? Was it with another counterpart? That seemed unfair. 

He flinches when his father’s hand lands on his head and ruffles it softly. He… feels like a child again and it makes his heart ache. He doesn’t deserve this. Not after what he did. He doesn’t understand how his father can stand him. He didn’t ask for a son that was a murderer. He also hadn’t planned on having four sons all of sudden thanks to a magical sword… Vio couldn’t comprehend how this man even tolerated him. He was so much trouble- he couldn’t even pack his own bag properly. He hates how he follows him around, letting himself be guided to a chair and being all around submissive as his father takes off his boot and sock to look over his injured foot. He just sits there as his father wraps it, making sure to go slow so Vio can remember how to do it himself when he’s on his own. 

How did he get such a good dad…? He always seemed so distant. Vio looks up at him and watches him as he moves around the house, checking for anything he might have missed before handing Vio a cup of hot tea he hadn’t known had been brewing. Vio stares down at it, inhaling the aroma before taking a slow sip. It soothes him down to his core and he relaxes unwillingly. 

He needed to leave. He didn’t deserve this kindness or perhaps this was pity?

“Are you sure you want to go, Vio. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” His father tells him, sitting next to him on the couch and brushing his hair like he used to do when he was boy. He hates how his words and actions bring him so much ease. He hates how he leans into the touch like a touched starved fool. He hates that his father is so close to having him change his mind. 

He stands up abruptly and shakes off his father’s hand, putting some distance between them. “I have to.”

“You don’t, but I understand if you want to.” He says in a placating way which only serves to make Vio feel guilty. “Would you like me to pack you some tea?” 

Vio’s breath gets caught in his throat and he shifts uncomfortably, looking at the cup in his hand before slowly nodding. His father hums and stands, moving back over to the bag and pulling out a bottle to fill with dried tea leaves while getting a small bottle to fill with the freshly made tea. 

“Why are you doing this for me?” 

His father looks to him and heaves another heavy sigh. “Because you’re my son-”

“That’s not a good excuse…” He cuts off, “I’ve been an awful son.” 

“And I love you. Watching you grow up and make your own successes and mistakes is what makes everything worth it. You’re still a kid, Vio. It’s my job to help you, but I’m not going to force you to stay, but you will always have a home here. So whenever you’re ready to come back, these doors will always be open for you.” He says softly, watching as Vio’s face twists like he’s in pain. 

Vio moves away from him, gathering up the significantly heavier bag and quiver with his arrows and bow and secures them in place on his back again. His father follows after him, holding his cup and waiting for his attention once more. He doesn’t receive it until they’re once more walking down the stairs, in which Vio turns and looks up at his father- eyes questioning but voice caught in his throat. 

His dad offers the cup to him again and Vio takes it, feeling like a child as he nurses the cup in his hands and drinks it all nice and slow in one go. It warms him down to his bones. It makes him feel like he has a place in the world and that honestly terrifies him. 

He stares down into the cup, swirling the tea leaves at the bottom before gently offering it back to his dad. He didn’t have to go… but he wanted to. He didn’t want to stay here. 

“Will you promise to come back when you’re ready?” His father asks, taking the cup and setting it to the side, once more dragging a hand through Vio’s hair like a child. He would love nothing more than to stay glued to his side, but he’s an adult now with the amount of blood drenching his once innocent hands. He can’t go back now. He just has to find his place in the world and hope that he can keep his head up. 

“Yes… I… I will come back.”

His father raises his other hand and offers his pinky to him. “Promise?” 

Vio snorts as he looks down at the pinky and raises his own hand to lock pinkies with him. “I promise… dad…” he whispers. That seems to be enough for his father because before he can step back, strong arms wrap around him and squeeze him so tight. He sucks in a breath, trembling a bit as he stays so still. The burning in his eyes is back but they don’t water like he wishes they would. For the smallest of moments he allows himself to lean into his dad, accepting the hug and wishing he could stay… he knows he could, but he also knows he can’t. “I have to go…” He whispers like it’s final… and in some ways it is. 

His dad lets him step away, but keeps his hands firmly on his shoulders. 

“Then I will see you later, Vio. Remember that I love you.” He says warmly, even if his face is pinched with the effort it took to say that. It takes a moment for Vio to really let it sink in that his father doesn’t want him to leave, but he’s allowing him to. Perhaps he knows he would just run away anyway. At least this way he has a chance to say goodbye and make sure he’s at least reasonably packed and ready for the world. 

Vio nods slowly and moves away, surprised when a pouch jingles and is pressed to his chest. He looks up again, shocked. It’s his father’s money pouch… “Dad. I can’t take this.” 

“Please. It will give me a small bit of peace if you do. Please. Please take care of yourself, son… Vio. And come back and see me, okay?” He says softly, ruffling Vio’s hair for what has to be the twentieth time. Vio doesn’t think he could ever get tired of that. 

“I’ll come back. I promise.” 

“Good… When you do, I’ll have you new clothes.” He gestures to Vio’s tunic. “This color is for royalty after all. But I will find a way of getting you more.” His father teases. 

“Please… Don’t.” He forces a chuckle out. “White is fine.” 

His father nods and Vio finally turns away walking out of their small gated yard. 

“Vio…?” He calls one last time. “Be safe.” 

Vio looks back, closing the gate behind him. “I will, Dad… I… I love you… and… and I’m sorry.” 

His father shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. Just keep your promise.” 

“I will.” He repeats, staring at his father one last time before walking away, tucking the rupee pouch into his quiver for safe keeping. 

He doesn’t know when he’ll be back… but at least he knows he can come back.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! The more comments I get, the more inspired I get to write more <3


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